


The Mouth of the Devil

by Anonymous



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Robin (Comics)
Genre: Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Tim Drake, Choking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Face-Fucking, Humiliation, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:20:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26088592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: During No Man's Land, Tim gets caught by Killer Croc and lashed down on the hood of a car.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Killer Croc
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43
Collections: DC Kink Meme





	The Mouth of the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Please note the tags and do not read if you find them upsetting. 
> 
> For the DC kink meme prompt: I just read No Man’s Land for the first time and that scene where Croc’s goons tied captive Robin spread eagle to the hood of Croc’s car sparked some Dirty Thoughts TM
> 
> Title from the Mother Mother song by the same name.

Tim wakes up with a splitting headache. He's lying down and there are people moving around him. "Hey - kid's waking up..." a voice nearby says.

There's general murmuring and low laughter from the crowd around. Tim tries to sit up and finds his wrists are tied fast. There's louder laughter now that they've noticed him squirming and Tim realises that his thighs are spread wide open. He tries to pull them closed, but his ankles are tied, too.

The harsh glare from a street light above him is suddenly blocked out as a shadow looms over him. Tim looks up and sees Killer Croc's nightmare face grinning down at him.

"Finally," Croc growls. "Thought you're gonna sleep through the main event, brat." Croc laughs, and his goons laugh too even though Tim doesn't think it was a very funny remark. He knows they're really laughing at him; he's aware enough of his surroundings to know he's been tied spread-eagled to the hood of a convertible. He must be quite a sight to these assholes. Croc stands inside the car, staring down at the captured boy.

Tim tenses his muscles, testing the bonds but he's well and truly trussed up. Why is it that your average, run of the mill goon is so inept at everything useful, but there's always one who can tie knots like a damn sailor?

He feels a drop of something wet hit his face and his eyes jerk back up to the mob boss looming over him. Croc's tongue is flicking out, drooling a little. It must have been drool he felt. It's not until Croc's eyes meet his again that Tim realises the slavering monster over him had been staring at his crotch.

There's excited muttering from the men, and one of them calls out, "We gonna have some fun before this show gets moving, boss?" The question is followed by raucous laughter.

_No thanks_ , Tim thinks. He swallows apprehensively, glancing around before looking back up at Croc. His face is no longer directly above Tim it seems, and with a horrible jolt Tim realises his view is obscured by the tent forming in Croc's ridiculous pressed trousers, directly above his face. _No, I really must be going, thanks anyway...!_

"Yeah." Croc says lightly. "I think we got time for that."

Oh god.

Tim can't help the shuddery little noise that leaves him, and at that moment the silent comm in his ear crackles into life. " _Master Tim? Robin?"_

"A..." Tim mumbles. So not only is he probably about to get freaking raped, Alfred gets to listen in, too.

Croc leers at him as he leans down.

"What's that, kid? 'Yay'?" Again, not funny, but everyone laughs anyway. Don't they have any appreciation for humour?

" _What is **happening** , Robin?" _

Alfred's urgent tone is enough to make Tim shake off the headache and yank on his bonds.

"Let me the fuck out of here, asshole!" he yells with all the ferocity he can muster. Crocs hums consideringly as he steps over the windshield and turns to stand with one foot on either side of Tim's torso, the car shaking and bouncing with his weight.

"Hmm... I heard 'fuck' and 'asshole'... I can tell you're a real forward-thinking birdie." More laughter, the men around them crowding forward with eager expressions. Croc pulls off his suit jacket and tie, handing them off to the nearest thug with a warning not to wrinkle the garments. 

The change of position makes Tim feel more exposed than ever, for all he's still fully outfitted in his Robin uniform. They haven't even taken the mask off. Alfred is speaking again in his ear, but Tim doesn't pay attention. Croc kneels down until he's straddling Tim, close enough for Tim to smell his acrid breath. More drool dribbles down from his saw-toothed maw. 

Tim turns his head away but then Croc's claws are digging into his chin and cheek, pulling his head around to face him again. "Let's see what we're working with here. Open up, little bird." Tim clenches his jaw shut defiantly.

Croc just smirks, then bounces his weight up and down on Tim's sternum, with enough force to drive the air from his lungs. Tim's mouth opens on a pained gasp and Croc slides two big, filthy fingers in.

"There, now, no need to be shy" the monstrous rogue grunts. He's still bearing down on Tim's chest, grinding a little and keeping Tim from taking a breath as his fingers continue to stroke and prod and thrust inside Tim's mouth.

_I can't breathe_ Tim thinks frantically. There's a coppery taste in his mouth - Croc's razor sharp claws are cutting into the soft flesh of his tongue and cheeks as he explores Tim's mouth. The blood quickly fills Tim's mouth and he can't take a breath to cough it up properly. Panicking, he thrashes as much as he can, deaf to Alfred's voice or the laughter around him.

He _does_ hear Croc's approving growl. Withdrawing his fingers, Croc holds Tim's jaw open and leans down to lick into his mouth with a long, cold, snake-like tongue. Tasting Tim's blood.

Blackness is starting to creep over Tim's vision when Croc finally lifts his weight from Tim's chest. His first desperate inhale has him choking on his own blood and Croc's tongue, which darts quickly down into his throat. Tim gags and Croc pulls back long enough to let him breathe and cough.

Then Croc's tongue is in his mouth again. Croc's whole maw is open around Tim's face and Tim quakes with the certainty that at any moment Croc will bite down, will rip his face open while around them the men laugh and holler. The snakey tongue slides into Tim's throat and seems to spasm there, writhing and undulating in his gullet, slurping up the blood Tim is still trying to swallow.

Tim's legs jerk helplessly, hands clenching and unclenching against the ropes holding him down. He feels other hands on him, pawing at his thighs and trying to grab him through the protective cup and armour. He has a lot of confidence in his suit's defences, but the increased stimulation adds to the humiliation of his position.

After an eternity Croc pulls back. Tim shudders and coughs, can't help the hurt, scared moans that slip out.

_"Master Tim, are you alright? Can you tell me where you are?"_

He doesn't want Alfred to see him, hopes he hasn't figured out what's happening to Tim right now. Wishes he could turn the comm off and hide from this.

In front of him, Croc is opening his pants. As Tim stares, wide-eyed behind his mask, the villain pulls out his huge, hard, scaley prick.

Tim's head thunks back against the windowshield as he tries to lean away. The smell is sewery, like Croc's subterranean home. The flesh is pale, like the skin of Croc's belly, and the scales are smaller and closer together, more like the flesh of a fat, well-fed python, Tim thinks.

_My anaconda don't- shut up, idiot brain! Not helping!_ Tim thinks furiously, trying to clamp down on his rising hysteria. _There's no way! There's no **way** that'll fit anywhere on me! _

Croc's cock juts forward, not straining upward like a normal man's would, or maybe it's the sheer size and weight of it that causes it to droop slightly forward towards Tim's face. It's long, and thick around - Tim's not sure he could even wrap his fingers fully around it.

"I can't," he blurts out suddenly, without thinking. "I can't - it won't - fit..." Croc grins, drool dripping down onto Tim's face again, only now it's joined by wet strands of fluid that are beading up and spilling from the fat tip of his cock.

"You'll manage." Croc assures him. "S'okay if you bite it, kid. I won't even feel it. Trust me, I got experience in this area," he chuckles low and caresses Tim's cheek and neck, claws leaving little scratches behind.

_"Master Tim..."_ Alfred says and then goes quiet.

Croc's hand slides from Tim's neck around to the back of his head, cradling it and then gripping firmly. He pulls Tim's face forward, holding his prick steady in his other hand. For a moment he just swirls the tip around Tim's lips, smearing drool and blood and precome together. "Open up. Or I'll open you up."

Whimpering, Tim does as he's told.

His mouth stretches wider and wider, until it feels like the sides must split. His teeth scrape and dig in along the slightly squishy length sliding in, but Croc just grunts and keeps pushing, unbothered.

"Suck me, little bird". His hand tightens threateningly on the back of Tim's head and Tim begins to suck as best he can in the awkward position. Barely half of Croc's prick is inside but it already feels like too much. The stretch is making the stinging cuts in his mouth pull open further, filling his mouth with blood again. Croc's hand in his hair pulls him back and forth a little, bobbing him as Tim tries to breathe.

There's a chorus of wolf whistles and laughter around him, the voices full of cruelty and lust.

"C'mon kid. Take me deeper," Croc growls and Tim feels the thick cockhead butting against the back of his throat. He whines in protest and Croc settles both hands on his head, pulling Tim's face inexorably down as far as he can get.

The huge cock head pops into his throat and then burrows deeper, until its progress is stopped by the stiff gorget of Tim's cape, pressing on his throat from the outside.

He can't breathe.

He's going to throw up.

"Mmm... good bird" Croc breathes, grinding his hips in little circles.

_"Master Tim, it's alright my boy,"_ Alfred says soothingly into Tim's ear. The old servant has obviously figured out what's going on, but all thoughts of embarassment or shame go out of Tim's head as he gropes for the comfort in Alfred's voice. _"Try to stay calm, and breathe when you can. You can get through this._ _Everything will be alright. I'm here with you."_

Tears are pooling under his mask, only leaking out slowly where the adhesive has pulled away from his skin. He focuses on Alfred's voice and calming his heart rate as Killer Croc begins to thrust in earnest.

"That's it kid, take it. Take my cock, you fucking slut bat-bitch. Does daddy bat fuck you like this?"

He's pounding into Tim's throat, pulling out only enough to let Tim snatch a few desperate breaths before plunging back in, Tim's throat distending as Croc's dick rams against the gorget again and again. He gulps continuously, loud and frantic.

"I bet he does, huh," Croc pants, working his hips faster. "How anyone could resist your pretty whore mouth. Can't fucking resist, even _he_ can't - oh fuck kid-!"

_"Shh... don't listen, my boy. Stay with me, Tim, you are safe and loved. This will pass..."_

"FUCK! I'm going to fucking come right down your little bitch throat, fucking take it you little slut...!" 

Tim can barely focus, his arms and legs feel numb and far away, his whole awareness narrowed down to the cock fucking into his throat and Alfred's voice in his ear telling him he's loved.

Croc ploughs in one last time, shaking Tim's head viciously around the base of his cock and grinding into him, and Tim feels hot liquid spurting deep in his throat. Filling him up and choking him.

For a few moments Croc holds Tim there, panting like a bull. Then he drops Tim's head back onto the windowshield of the car and lets his cock slide free from Tim's mouth. Tim gasps and curls forward, coughing and gagging on blood and come, as around them the men jeer and whistle. Suddenly it's like the volume has been cranked up to 100, he's drowning in their yells. Croc tucks his prick away and holds up his hands victoriously, basking in the praise of his men.

Some of them reach for Tim eagerly and he whines, trying to curl away from them. But Croc orders them off; the hours is late and they have places to be.

Time to get this show on the road.


End file.
